


Dreams are only dreams

by Vanitas-Vanilla (CURUS)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ends relatively happy sort of, I honestly have no idea what to tag this as I am genuinely confused., JeanMarco Secret Santa 2015, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 06:05:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5486405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CURUS/pseuds/Vanitas-Vanilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their dream was always to join the Military Police. They wanted to serve the king - or live in a safe place until the Titans finally arrive, in Jean's case - and they wanted to make people proud. That's what their dream was. </p>
<p>Sometimes dreams are just too impossible to achieve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams are only dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dat_heichou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dat_heichou/gifts).



> For the JM Secret Santa Gift Exchange! I actually was going to do a COMPLETELY different plot that dat_heichou requested but when I got not even a quarter of the way through I hit a wall and realized "I have no idea where I'm going with this." SO, with only a few days to spare, I scrapped that and did this and I actually am amazed I managed to whip this up. (My wrist hurts but who cares, I did what I thought I couldn't.) Sacrificed some homework time because this was more important to me. I'm sorry if it feels rushed, I just had this kind of flow in my mind while I worked but I TRIED REALLY HARD TO MAKE IT WORTH IT! 
> 
> Hurray for Canon AUs where Marco isn't dead! Happy-ish ending for all!

Serving the King. That’s what they wanted to do. Serve the King from the safety of the interior. Living a safe and comfortable life as proud soldiers of the Military Police. It was the dream that they crafted together since their days in training, and even before that. Long before they even met while being given their official uniforms for the cadets. Marco remembers spending his childhood pretending to be a loyal servant to the king, a makeshift cape around his neck that his mother made out of an old cloth, the Military Police symbol hand-stitched to the back in her best efforts to make it seem authentic. He’d run through Jinae, followed closely by his then five year-old brother, and a stick in his hand to act as his sword. His older sister would act as a queen and he’d play the role of a proud soldier until dusk. His mother nearly had to pry the cape off of him every night before bed.

It was more than just a dream, though. It was his passion; his goal. His late father had held the same passion as well. To the man’s dismay, he came in just under the Top Ten in training, ranking at Number Eleven. While Military Police was not an option, he’d been content to work with the Garrisons, even if the title didn’t hold as much pride as he had hoped. Marco never thought less of his father, though. To him, the man was his inspiration, and before his father had passed away, he made a vow that he’d achieve what his father wanted. He vowed to join the Military Police.

When the day came that he was to join the 104th Training Division, Marco was ecstatic. He made the promise to his mother and siblings that he’d come back once he joined the MPs. And while training was excruciating, and there were days where he was convinced that he would die before graduation, he made it. He made it to graduation, and he even brought someone along with him.

Never would Marco forget the day he met the walking time-bomb, Jean Kirschstein. He will never understand how it happened, but Jean Kirschstein became just another part of his life during training. Those long years were spent with them nearly attached at the hip, forced apart only when assignments and training demanded it. Maybe it was fate. Marco likes to think so. Maybe he was meant to be connected to the cocky blonde, to help him control his temper and to speak blunt honesty when his arrogance made him ignorant to facts that hung in front of his face.

Or maybe fate had decided that Marco needed somebody to watch over him.

When the battle for Trost began, they weren’t ready. They weren’t expecting to be face-to-face with the Titans. Marco never expected to see one with his own eyes, and he wonders how Eren, Mikasa, and Armin are still able to function after witnessing them take over Shiganshina. The Titans were hideous creatures. The moment he saw just one of them, he knew he’d be seeing them again in his dreams after the battle was over. This was emphasized once he saw them devour his own comrades. He even had his own brush with Death.

The memories are fuzzy to him. He recalls aiming to protect Eren so he could seal the hole in the wall. And then it happened. The cables of his gear had been snatched by a large hand and he was pulled aside like a toy, slammed against the wall and his head hitting the bricks with a painful smack. With the blood coming from his head, his vision in his right eye was gone and he was far too dizzy to make out the details, but he knew he had been caught by a Titan. He barely made out a blurry mass of blonde before he fell unconscious. When he woke up, Trost was no longer around him and he was lying in a bed, bandages around his head and Jean asleep in a chair at his side. After he had fallen blacked out, Jean had saved and protected him, holding out until the job was done and humanity had taken its first step to winning against the Titans.

Trost had only served to encourage their dream of being in the Military Police. The last thing either of them wanted to do was face another Titan, and while Marco had stayed in recovery during clean up, he knew from the grim expression Jean held every day that they didn’t want to see another deceased comrade either. While their friends joined the Scouting Legion, they moved on to the MPs together, the same way they went through training: Attached at the hip. They went for their dreams.

But that’s all it was. Only dreams.

The Military Police. The people Marco admired since childhood. And they were all corrupted. Jean noticed it first. He was always far more aware than he gave himself credit for. For the first time, Marco was the one who had to have the truth pounded into his head.

“Why won’t you believe me? They’re worse than the Garrisons!”

“Just stop it already, Jean!”

After finishing their rounds for the day, the two of them were heading back to their sleeping quarters, dressed with their MP cloaks that Marco had always dreamed of. Their footsteps were hurried, Marco in front and attempting to walk faster than Jean just to avoid his running mouth. The normally upbeat brunette had a bitter frown on his face, dark eyes focused ahead of him, while Jean trailed behind with a frustrated expression.

“Dammit Marco, when are you going to stop living with your head in the clouds?”

In an instant, Marco had his hands on Jean’s cloak, pulling him close until they nearly butted heads. Marco can’t recall very many times when he’d feel so angry, but he was tired, and he was still just a kid dreaming about being the soldier his father never got to become, and he just wanted Jean to _stop_.

“Marco, what the hell-“

“Listen to me!” The harshness in the freckled boy’s voice instantly silenced Jean, “I have worked my ass off to get here. I have wanted this since I was a kid. This isn’t just some cushy lifestyle to me. This is my dream! Not everybody is selfish like you, Jean!” With one final shove, Marco left Jean against a wall and stormed off, not bothering to look back to see the reaction of the person he calls his best friend. He only returned to their quarters and took up his place at his desk, an unfinished letter for home waiting for him. The sight of his message did little to comfort him, the contents of his letter being far too happy for him now. Too positive, and too optimistic. It was full of his pride and joy of being in the Military Police, recounting his experiences so far.

With a heavy, Marco slid the letter back and stood up. He’d never be able to finish it in his current mood. The last thing he wanted was to send a message home that carried even a drop of his anger. He made it to the MPs. That’s all that mattered, and that’s all he wants to write about. Nothing more, and nothing less.

Jean and him were silent toward one another the rest of the night, crawling in their own beds and falling to sleep without even bothering to utter a single good night like they usually did. Marco didn’t help Jean with his harnesses and Jean didn’t help Marco comb out the tangles in his hair that often formed through the day. They simply ignored each other and pretended that the argument never happened.

After that day, Jean didn’t continue arguing with Marco about how he saw the MPs as corrupt. Their relationship soured and they weren’t attached to the hip anymore. Marco took on jobs with other soldiers and he was less concerned about whether Jean was doing his job or not. It left him with an empty feeling and his right side was always much colder than the left, as though it was missing something. (He once let himself laugh when he recalled that the scar from his head injury was also on his right side.) Their conversations were nearly nonexistent. They only spoke to each other when it involved their work. In a way, it was kind of…lonely.

If there was one good thing that came from their time apart, though, it was that it gave Marco time to let reality sink in. To have his dream disappear into the truth. To see, with his own eyes, that the Military Police were not what he expected them to be. Sure, Marco had overheard their conversations, how they talked down on the Survey Corps, how they openly admitted amongst themselves that they indulge a little too much in the rations, that they sometimes stole food just for the Hell of it. Marco managed to bite his tongue with things like that. After all, who doesn’t do that? Everybody was struggling to survive, even in the interior. (At least, that’s what Marco constantly told himself. He never was one to steal food, even when he was starving for it.)

Reality hit Marco like a wall eventually. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, acrid and overpowering. He wasn’t sure what made his stomach turn more: Seeing Military Police weapons being sold to a shady merchant, or knowing that he was coaxed into helping transport said weapons without knowing where they were being taken. Why hadn’t he asked? Why didn’t he think something was off when he was brought over to load the crates into the cart? It should have been obvious; they never used guns. Some small part of him had whispered in his ear “ _Say something. Demand answers. This isn’t right!_ ” yet he ignored it. He ignored it and now guilt and shame sat in his chest like a stone, unmoving and making every breath feel like it is being squeezes out of him. He was forced to stand there, watching as the other soldier accepted the money from the merchant. He was forced to keep his mouth shut and for a moment, Marco genuinely wished he was blind, just so he wouldn’t see the exchange happening. The weight of the crates seemed to double when he and two other soldiers were commanded to move them from their cart to the merchant’s. His hands felt so filthy afterward. The filth deepened when his hand was grabbed and he felt something being dropped into his palm.

“Here’s your share, pup.”

The words were said with a shameless smirk and Marco was left standing alone in the secluded alley, the wheels of the cart being the only sound as the other MPs took it away. Alone, Marco was finally allowed to fall into his emotions, letting the shame eat him alive. His eyes burned as he stared at the money in his hands. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to be. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way. There wasn’t supposed to be guilt or shame or disgust in his job. He was meant to hold his head up high with a smile, with pride swelling in his chest. He was meant to look at himself and feel like a real soldier who was devoting his life to something extraordinary. If there was ever a moment when Marco felt like the most ignorant person in the world, it was right then and there. Instantly, he remembered Jean and all the things he had tried to tell him, trying to force the truth into Marco’s head. Marco liked to consider himself as an understanding person, but in that moment, he realized he was far from it. He had snapped at Jean, physically lunged at him, and denied the truth that his best friend had tried so hard to show him.

He felt so alone. Alone and sick. He held on to the money, feeling its weight in the pocket of his jacket right underneath the brand of Military Police. Maybe he was punishing himself by carrying it, forcing himself to carry it so he wouldn’t forget his own foolishness. Jean had been right all along, he hadn’t been speaking out in an act of selfishness and betrayal. Jean was quite possibly the only person Marco would ever trust now, and when they met again that night in their room, Marco locked eyes with Jean again for the first time since their argument.

“…I’m sorry.”

Marco always believed that he and Jean were meant to meet. They were somehow destined to be tied together, able to read one another in ways nobody else could. With two words, they somehow managed to understand an entire story. A simple apology told Jean that Marco was not only apologizing for hurting Jean, but also admitting his mistake. Maybe their friendship was just that deep, or maybe Jean was just very good at reading the guilty expression on Marco’s face. It didn’t matter; all that mattered to them now was that they knew the truth and they were sick of it. Marco stared at his best friend with an expression that seemed almost helpless. With the money in his pocket, he asked the only thing on his mind, “What do we do now?”

This wasn’t how their dream was meant to be. This wasn’t what his father had wanted, and it’s not what Jean and Marco wanted either.

“Have you ever considered joining the Scouts?”

Marco never thought he’d hear those words come from Jean. During training, Jean had always voiced his disdain about the Scouting Legion, calling anybody who thought of joining “suicidal”, openly insulting them for being stupid enough to risk their lives to fight against the Titans. As Jean asked him that question while they sat together in their room, Marco almost asked if his friend had hit himself in the head earlier in the day.

Marco’s surprise and confusion must have been clear, because Jean immediately continued, “I know, I know. I used to talk shit about them, but…what the hell else are we supposed to do? Be in the Garrisons? Because that’s no better!” His voice rose in volume and Marco immediately shushed him, worried that somebody would overhear. Scowling, Jean looked down at his bedcovers in thought, “…Marco, we can’t stay here.” He murmured quietly, “I’m not going to stay with people like this. They’re not the proud Military Police you thought they were, and a cushy life isn’t worth it if I’m going to be involved in their corrupted crap.” When Jean’s eyes met with Marco’s again, they held the determination that they once had during their painful years of training. To Marco, it felt like he was seeing the young boy from the barracks again. It was…relieving, in a way. Still, the thought of leaving wasn’t sitting well, but Marco knew it was only because he was never the type to abandon his duties. He always told himself that he’d serve the king, and now he was considering running away? “Marco, I know this is hard. I-…I know that you would never consider running away. So if you decide to stay here, I wouldn’t-“

“I’m going with you.” The words left Marco’s mouth before he realized they had even formed, and his mouth continued to run before his mind couldn’t even process what it was saying, “I can’t stay here, especially not without you.” When he thought of Jean leaving alone, it filled Marco with so much loneliness he wondered where it had even come from. Yes, Jean was his best friend but he never thought that his presence was so important that it would hurt to lose Jean at all. Even though there was an uncertain look on his face, Marco leaned forward and grabbed Jean’s hand and held it firmly in his own, “If…If you want to leave, then I’m going too. If you join the Scouts, then I’ll join them too.”

Jean looked surprised by what Marco said, eyes wide and staring at the freckled soldier with disbelief, but his expression soon softened into a grateful and relieved smile. His other hand placed itself over Marco’s and his smile slightly broke into a small grin, “Glad to know you’ll still have my back, Marco.”

They began planning the next night. They wanted to leave as soon as they could. Jean had suggested that they leave at night, when the dark could hide them and they could scale the walls with less of a chance at being seen. “We can use our gear to make it into the next wall and make our way back to Karanese.” A map was spread out on Jean’s bed, the two soldiers sitting on either side of it. It held a detailed picture of the three walls, and Jean had taken a pencil to it, circling their destinations for their escape. With the end of his pencil, he pointed to his most recent circle around Karanese, “This was the last place the Scouts launched their last expedition from. The Scouting Legion goes on their expeditions usually once a month, so we’ll have to get on the next boat there as soon as we get into Wall Rose.”

“How do you know that the Scouts will come back to Karanese?” Frowning, Marco looked to Jean with slight confusion, “And how long has it been since they left?”

The blonde soldier sat back on his bed, still staring at their map, “The MPs talk more shit on the Scouts than I ever did. I’ve been listening to what they’ve been saying.” He twirled his pencil around in his fingers as he spoke, “According to them, the Scouting Legion launched their last expedition from there. It’s only been a few weeks, so they’ll have to be back soon. That means we need can’t waste any time.” Finally looking away from the map, Jean turned his gaze on Marco, “I want to get out of here tomorrow.”

The sudden suggestion had Marco choking on his own breath and he looked at Jean with wide eyes, “Wh-what? We can’t-“

“Marco, the longer we wait, the longer it’ll take for us to meet with the Scouts, and it’ll give the MPs more time to figure out what we’re up to.” Pushing himself up straight, Jean frowned at his friend and dropped his pencil on the map, “If they even begin to suspect that we’re planning on leaving, they’ll be watching us like hawks day and night. They’ll be waiting for us to make our move and if they catch us then the only thing we’ll be seeing is the afterlife because I’m pretty sure treason calls for execution.” When Jean threw that fact down between them, Marco immediately went silent, horrified by the thought of not only being caught, but executed. He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t let the next letter home come from someone else only to inform his mother that her son had been killed for betraying his own men. He couldn’t do that to her, and especially not to Jean’s mother as well.

Swallowing down his hesitation, Marco nervously looked to their map, “So…we’ll have to make sure we have our tanks full then.” He didn’t want to run away. He wanted to tell Jean that he changed his mind and he wanted to stay. The only thing pushing him toward the idea of leaving was the still present weight of the money in the pocket of his jacket.

 

When they decided to leave, they made sure everything stayed as close to their plan as possible. Marco ensured that the gas tanks to their gear was full. Jean eyed their route, trying to find the quickest way to the wall. They agreed to leave later at night when they knew everybody was asleep. It was supposed to go perfectly.

A knock at the door of their room came not too long before they planned to leave. Both of them stayed silent, hoping it had been a mistake. Their hearts nearly stopped when a second set of knocks came. They were fully dressed in their uniforms, needing only their cloaks and gear to leave. Jean turned to Marco in the dark, seeing his friend’s silhouette on one of their beds, “Get in bed and act like you’re asleep.” He whispered as quietly as he could. As he heard Marco crawling under the covers, Jean grabbed one of his own, wrapping it around himself tightly and ensuring that whoever was outside wouldn’t be able to see he was already dressed. Running a hand through his hair a few times to get a messy appearance, he tried to look as though he barely woke up, adding an audible yawn just as he opened the door.

From his bed, Marco listened to the conversation, back facing the door and his covers wrapped tight around himself.

“What the hell, it’s late…What do you want…?” Came Jean’s falsely tired voice.

“Kirschstein. Get dressed and report outside.” Marco felt his whole body tense up and he worried that whoever was at the door saw him stiffen in his bed.

“What? Why-“

“Do not ask questions, just report outside immediately.”

There was a heavy silence once the soldier had left and Marco listened as Jean slowly shut their door. Too afraid to make a single move, Marco waited for Jean to say something first. A weight settled on one side of the bed and he felt something lean over him. He flinched when he felt a breath near his ear.

“Stick to the plan and head for the walls like we agreed. If I don’t show up after ten minutes, scale the wall without me.”

“No-” Marco sat up so quick that the two of them smacked heads, both groaning in pain from the impact. Taking a second to recover from the hit, the brunette glanced back at his friend and attempted to continue where he left off, “I’m not going without you.” He quietly yet firmly said, “If you’re not going, then I’m-“

“Quit being like Mikasa and stick to the plan!” Jean hissed as he gripped Marco’s shirt in his fist, “Dammit, you’re acting the same way she did when she was around Jeager. You can’t just go wherever I do. And I’m not letting you stay here just because these assholes decided to screw everything up.” Letting out a slow sigh, the blonde’s grip loosened and he leaned closer to Marco, “I don’t want you here. You’re way too good to keep getting involved in their messes. Just…go on ahead without me if you have to and meet up with the Scouts. At least one of us should get out of here.” There was an odd look in Jean’s eyes that Marco couldn’t place, something that made his chest ache a little just from the sight of it. “Once you’re outside of this building, you can’t come back. If someone catches you trying to sneak back in, they’ll know something is up and they won’t give us this chance ever again. Do _not_ come back here at all.”

“Please don’t make me go by myself. Jean, _please_ …”

The two of them fell silent, noses nearly touching and feeling uneasy about the situation. Marco felt almost terrified by the thought of leaving alone, but Jean was right. Once he’s left, he wouldn’t be able to turn back. He had to keep moving, even if it meant leaving Jean behind and even when he could feel something painful being tugged inside his chest.

“Promise me that you’ll stick to our plan, Marco. Promise that you’ll go to Karanese alone if you have to.” With a painful nod, Marco silently promised to do as Jean asked. As sad as Jean looked, the blonde still smiled, “Good. Thank you.” Leaning forward, the two brought their foreheads together, Jean still smiling as he brushed their noses together, “Come on. Don’t look at me that way. It’s going to be okay, Marco.” He almost whispered, referring to the uneasy and worried look that Marco was giving him.

“I don’t want to leave without you, Jean. I need you.”

Quietly laughing, Jean shook his head slightly, “I think I need you the most…” When his response was met with a confused sound, the blonde gave another small laugh, “You don’t get it, do you? You act like you notice everything, but you’ve been so blind about this since graduation.” There was a sudden knock on the door of their room, followed by the impatient and muffled voice of the soldier from earlier calling out to Jean. Frowning, Jean held the covers of Marco’s bed tight in his hand, “…Don’t do anything stupid, Bodt.” Suddenly Jean was leaning in and Marco gave a startled gasp as their lips made contact, Jean holding the kiss for a few seconds before pulling away and going for the door. Jean left quickly and Marco remained sitting in bed, lost in the realization that Jean had kissed him.

All Marco wanted was to be in the Military Police with Jean, and to be someone that his family could be proud of. Desertion was never in the dream he and Jean crafted together.

 

Ten minutes. That’s how long he had to wait. It was freezing outside and Marco wasn’t sure if he could handle standing around to wait for Jean. He kept looking left and right, hoping that he’d see his friend’s shadow approaching. Every shaky breath Marco let out sent a white cloud from his mouth. He wasn’t sure exactly how long he’s been waiting, but he’s certain that it’s been more than what Jean told him to wait. Slowly looking up to the wall, staring at the edge high above his head, Marco argued with himself on what to do next.

_‘You have to go. Jean made you promise!’_

_‘I also promised I’d make mom and dad proud by joining the Military Police, and now look.’_

_‘Do you really think that mom and dad would want you to stay if they knew what this place was like?!’_

_‘…No.’_

Looking over his shoulders one more time, Marco stared in the direction of where he and Jean once stayed together. “I’m sorry…” He wasn’t sure who he was apologizing to: His father for not achieving what he always dreamt of, the Military Police for deserting him, or Jean for not waiting any longer. All Marco knew was that he had to say sorry before he pulled the trigger of his gear and scaled the wall alone.

Even after Marco’s feet touched the ground, he still felt weightless. He wondered if it was because of the oddly numbing sensation coursing through him or if he had finally dropped part of the weight that had sat on his shoulders since he and Jean decided to escape just two days ago. Standing in Wall Rose, he suddenly realized that this was it. He just turned his back on everything he ever stood by and there was no way that he can turn around now. The part that still weighed on him, though, was that he was alone. Was he really going to do this by himself? Was he going to join the Scouts while Jean remained trapped in the interior with those poor excuses for soldiers?

Squaring his shoulders and trying to keep his head high, Marco took the first step forward to his new life.

“Marco?”

One step was all he took before his heart leapt. He turned so quickly that he almost felt dizzy as soon as he stopped. That last weight that held him down finally crumbled and fell as he saw someone else nearby, with the familiar voice that was capable of removing all negative emotions in Marco’s head. “Jean!” In an instant, Marco had his arms tight around Jean’s neck, clinging to him like a leech. There was a tight hold around his waist that told him that Jean was just as relieved to see him too. Pulling back, the brunette didn’t question himself when he leaned in and quickly stole a long kiss that practically breathed hope back into his body, “I thought you wouldn’t show up…” He quietly said against Jean’s lips, feeling his friend smiling in return.

“And leave you out there alone? Fuck no, I’d never get any sleep. I’d be too worried about whether a Titan has eaten you or not.” Jean gave Marco another quick kiss, much shorter this time but equally as sweet.

The two of them took a second to let reality sink in before they both turned to stare at the road ahead of them, arms still tight around one another. A cold air blew by, making them shiver, and Marco pulled himself closer to Jean, knowing the blonde was always the type to want to leech warmth from him, “This is it…” he quietly said into Jean’s ear, “We’re really doing this?”

“Unless you prefer being put in prison or execution, then yeah. We’re doing this.” Knowing Marco was still nervous, Jean turned his head to see eye to eye with Marco and he gently nudged his nose to the brunette’s freckled cheek, “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine as long as we’re together.” When Marco’s brown eyes met with his own, Jean gave a reassuring smile. To his relief, Marco returned it. The two kissed one more time before slowly letting each other go, their hands being the only thing that kept them together.

_‘I guess dreams really are only dreams…’_

**Author's Note:**

> Hope it was good and I hope it met your expectations! I had a lot of fun doing this! (Also, I was kind of going to draw something for you, too, dat_heichou, but my tablet decided to make life hard, bUT I ACTUALLY STILL PLAN TO DRAW IT, JUST LET ME GET ANOTHER TABLET AND I'LL DO IT.) 
> 
> Merry Christmas/Happy holidays to you and everyone else! And thank you to Cobalt, Poppy, and Babydoll for organizing this thing! It was awesome. c: 
> 
> [Dat me tumblr](http://vanitas-vanilla.tumblr.com/) and this me [tweeter](https://twitter.com/VanthePapaya).


End file.
